Dealing With Disappointment
by BunniesAndBooks
Summary: Fill to an old GKM prompt. Artie confesses his problems with Tina, and Kurt confesses his throwing of the diva-off.


**GKM prompt #2 for the night: Artie confesses his problems with Tina, Kurt confesses his throwing of the diva off. Preferred not to turn sexual.**

**Was fun finding a prompt that wasn't sexual in nature :) Unusual in the gkm but a real pearl.**

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He knew it would hurt when Rachel would be declared the winner of their little diva-off, he'd known that, prepared for it and somewhat managed to accept it.

At least a little.

Okay, maybe not at all.

But it would all be for a better cause in the end, right? Sparing his father from the possible - and most likely probable - fallout from if he was to sing a girls song in public. He could imagine how his dad would become even more exposed to the torment he himself already received daily. And he couldn't have that.

He didn't know it would hurt just this bad though. It all just feels so wrong. Kurt knows he did the right thing by blowing that note, and for that he feels so immensely proud of himself, but there's also so much disappointment floating around in his mind for feeling that he had to tank it in the first place. Disappointment in that the achingly narrow minded people in this town felt they had to attack his father to make himself feel awful and alone. As if he didn't already.

And now everyone will think he can't reach that high F on top of everything else. That stupid little note that he most certainly can hit without difficulties. At least now that he had practiced it.

No, now when he will ask for any future songs with the glorious high notes they won't believe in him or his singing abilities. It doesn't matter that he knows he can do it, because he wants to be able to prove it to everybody, wants to be able to just sing whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He wants everything in his life to stop being unfair.

But that clearly won't happen. Not while he still attends McKinley. Not while he's still living in mere little Ohio. Possibly not even after that.

But he will hope for his future, and he will do that by keep practicing.

That is why he stays behind after everyone leaves the choir room at the end of practice. He will just stay there for a few minutes more, just for a few, so he can hit that high F and reinforce his belief in himself. Just so he knows himself he can do it.

Standing in front of the piano he tinker momentarily with the keys, smiling faintly at the brief memory of his mother teaching him the basics of the piano, before taking a deep breath and beginning his exercises.

He doesn't have to start as low as usually considering he has spent the better part of the last hour singing background ooh's and aah's for yet another one of Rachel's solos. Not even Defying Gravity at that, since that matter got dropped the moment it was clear she had won it. Thinking about it they will probably never bring the song up ever again in the club. Oh well…

But here he is, once more reaching the high F, a small sad smile on his lips. And for a moment he just wonders if he could maybe go even higher, so he tries. He sings out the high G, feeling so proud of himself, so even when he falters slightly on the high A it doesn't really matter. Especially not when he is convinced he could reach it with just a little bit of practice.

The note dies out slowly, the silence once again surrounding him. He is still disappointed for blowing that note on purpose, but it doesn't matter quite as much anymore. He knows he can reach it, can go beyond it, and maybe someday someone else will know it too…

"Why didn't you hit it before yo?" a familiar voice asks, and he doesn't have to turn around to know that Artie is wheeling himself up behind him. "You obviously can considering… so why didn't you?"

"Why does anybody ever give up the things they want?" Kurt asks him back with a lingering sadness in his voice as he sits down on the bench, and turning his face so he can look into the disabled boy's eyes he continues. "My dad has been getting some phone calls lately. People telling him his son is a… a f-fag." He swallows at the horrid word he hopes he will never have to utter ever again. "Just imagine what would happen if I sang that song at Sectionals in this cow town. It just… just isn't worth it." He lowers his eyes back to the keys before him; his shoulders slumped in defeat, once again spiraling down into dark thoughts.

"Man, that's awful." Kurt can hear the understanding sorrow in the paraplegic boy's voice and he is certain that Artie is shaking his head in despair for other people's foolishness. "It's cool of you though," he continues, almost as if in awe, "to throw the solo for your Pa like that. It's brave. I don't know if I could do that."

Kurt grins, a genuine smile for once. It felt good to have the other teen understand, to comprehend just how much this mattered. To him. To his father. He didn't even have to spell it all out, like he knew he would have to if it were Mercedes. Or Finn. Or pretty much anyone else in Glee club. Artie just seemed to know what he meant – what he felt – about the matter. Explanations weren't necessary.

"Thank you," he whispers gratefully, turning around so he can look at Artie and is surprised, but happily so, to find the other teen reaching out his arms towards Kurt in a clear intent to hug him.

The countertenor giggles faintly as he leans closer; bringing his arms around the younger teens shoulders and hugs him tightly. He can feel Artie's small but strong arms around his middle and he revels momentarily in knowing there are still some people living in this hellhole that don't care that he's gay. That some people in this hellhole can see people for who they are and not who they are attracted to.

Pulling back he thanks Artie again, feeling so much better than he did before.

"Wanna get out of here?" Artie asks with a ridiculous smirk on his lips, and Kurt can't do nothing but smile back and nod.

Together the two of them pack up their things and head out of the choir room, Kurt listening attentively to the rather one sided discussion about the difference in rap and hip hop that Artie is keeping up. It had felt so good being listened to earlier, and he is more than willing to repay that favor even if he has little to no idea when it comes to what Artie is talking about.

The wheelchair bound boy keeps talking as they head through the labyrinths of hallways towards the main entrance. Or, that is until they turn a particular corner and Artie comes to a stop, staring off into space before them.

The countertenor can't help feeling both confused and curious about Artie's strange shutdown and tentatively asks what's going on.

"It's nothing," Artie answers his silent question and continue rolling down the hallway.

But it is obviously not nothing; Kurt can see clearly how Artie peeks through the corners of his eyes at a particular spot on the floor. So he does the only thing he can think of – he grabs hold of the handles to Artie's chair and halts him from fleeing the area.

"You can talk to me if you want to. You know I won't tell anyone." Kurt offers quietly, not really sure how to behave. "Though only if you want to," he adds in a hurry when he sees Artie briefly glancing up at him. Kurt knows how to talk to the girls more often then not, but he's never really been friends with a boy before and isn't really that sure how to go about it. Do boys talk to each other about things that bother them? Or is that just him?

There's a tension in the air between them now as they continue on. Kurt doesn't dare look at the younger boy and he has a feeling that Artie can't look up at him either. He wonders how the atmosphere could change so much so quickly. He doesn't even know what's going on for Gaga's sake!

"She doesn't have a stutter you know." Artie begins tentatively. "I've known her for years and she never told me." Kurt keeps his eyes trained on the floor before them, just listening silently as the other teen keeps talking. "That's not what's getting to me though yo. It's knowing that the one person I thought knew what I was going through – not being able to hide that one thing about myself that everybody keeps talking about to their friends behinds my back, the thing every bully in this place gives me daily crap over – didn't really truly know anything. Didn't really know how scary it all was. That they just… faked everything," Artie finishes with a depressed sigh.

Kurt feels like laughing. Or possibly crying. Or both. He knows that feeling Artie described all too well. That feeling of having people talking about you behind your back, of having them look at you differently than the other people surrounding you. He experiences it every day. Because of those things he honestly can't hide he is bullied by the jocks every single day. Much like Artie himself it seems.

"Tina might not know what you're going through, but you are not as alone as you think," he tells the sulking boy who snaps his head up to look at Kurt. In turn the older boy stops and turn fully towards the sitting boy, a sad smile decorating his face, a lone tear trickling down his cheek which he irritatingly dries off with the back of his hand. They don't have to say anything, they both know what the other is thinking and feeling.

Kurt squeezes Artie's shoulder lightly, just in recognition, and they share a small albeit sad smile before they open the doors to go outside.

"Do you wanna come over and play some video games later?" Artie asks as they are about to part on the parking lot. "I could teach you how they work."

"Sure," Kurt answers with a broad grin.

He doesn't mention that against popular belief he actually knows how to play video games, nor does he mention that he is quite good at most of them too. He figures it will be fun to watch as Artie finds that out on his own later, when Kurt will kick his ass in whatever game of Artie's choosing.

But for the moment he settles for a small wave as they part, smiling to himself, knowing he made another friend that day, even though the circumstances behind it hadn't been the best. Well, one couldn't be too picky.


End file.
